


The Nutcracker Prince

by PrideandPadawans



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M, ballet!lock, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:11:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2136534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrideandPadawans/pseuds/PrideandPadawans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ballet!lock Sherlock is a promising ballet student who lands the leading role in his dance academy's production of the Nutcracker. John is a new student who is instantly mesmerized by Sherlock. Dance. Love. and Revelations. Johnlock. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September

**Chapter one: September**  
“Would you like to introduce your self?” says a snotty woman in the front of the class. First period: English.  
“Yeah. I’m John Watson. My family just moved to London so here I am.”  
“Alright, John you can have a seat back there.” The woman points to the only empty seat on the class. It is in the back row, behind a boy in dark clothes who is slouched over. John takes his seat and pulls out his binders. In front of him when a voice says, “Birmingham” John looks around a realizes the boy in front of him said it.  
“Excuse me.”  
“Birmingham. You’re from Birmingham.” The boy sits up and turns around to face John. His eyes are a lovely green- or where they blue. Neither the less his eyes are lovely. “The names Sherlock Holmes.”  
“uh John Watson-”  
“Clearly,”  
“- uh what? Um how did you know where I was from?”  
“You’re shirt and shoes.”  
“How?”  
“You clearly come from another major city. It’s in your attitude. It’s your first day, so you want to wear your best clothes. These, I am guessing, are your best clothes. And despite trends becoming more universal, they still move through countries in waves. And the obsession with those shoes ended awhile ago.” Sherlock turns back around to his desk.  
“What was amazing.”  
Sherlock whips back around. “What?”  
“That was amazing.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, what do people normally say?”  
“Piss off.” John laughs a little and receives a stern look from the teacher.  
John sits with Sherlock in all of the other classes that they have together. He quickly realizes that the other kids don’t enjoy him. Sherlock even calls hanging out with him, “social suicide.” That is in second period algebra. When john walks into chemistry, everything is different. Sherlock is alone as usual, but the other kids are watching him as he lines up graduated cylinders on the lab table. That are studying his movements, some are even mimicking him. John stands next to Sherlock. “They are all copying you.” He states.  
“Yes.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I’m the only one with a clue in this class.”  
“So they mess with you in every class but the one they copy you in?”  
“That seems to be the way.”  
“Why do you let them?”  
“Oh it’s fun. I’ll switch chemicals around. Nothing dangerous. Just enough to make someone hop in the emergency shower.”  
“That’s evil.”  
“That’s even. Plus Mr. Hadik lets me work on special projects sometimes and then they all get lost.” It is on that note that Mr. Hadik walks in.  
“I see you are all set up.” His eyes glance to Sherlock. “So yes today we are catalyzing Hydrogen Peroxide by using Potassium Iodide...” Sherlock had already started measuring out chemicals  
“Shouldn’t we finish listening to the instructions?”  
“Nope.” One of the liquids is already in the graduated cylinder and Sherlock adds another. “Step back.” John moves back in the last second to avoid being covered in the foam that erupts from the top of the container. They swivel their heads.  
“Uh, very good Mr. Holmes.” Speaks Mr. Hadik. Sherlock doesn’t acknowledge the compliment and washes out the equipment before setting them up in front of John. Sherlock measure out the chemicals and sets them in the two cylinders.  
“Just add that,” Sherlock points to the Potassium Iodide, “to that,” the Hydrogen Peroxide, “when he says to start.”  
“So now what do you do?”  
“Whatever I want.” says Sherlock pausing after each word.  
“That’s fun.”  
“Yep.” Sherlock reaches in this bag and pulls out a book.  
“The Origins of the Parliament.” reads John. “That thing must be five hundred pages.”  
“Five hundred and twenty-eight pages Took it off my brother.”  
“Your brother sounds like fun.”  
“Yes. Now mix your chemicals and let me read.”  
John sighs, turning away from Sherlock. He swears he feels Sherlock’s foot brush against his calf.  
Chemistry was the last class John had with Sherlock until lunch. And at lunch he couldn’t be found. John went through the rest of his classes looking for the kid. When the final bell rings John runs out the door. He notices a black mop of hair already bouncing down the street carrying a large bag. John’s feet pound against the ground as he chases after the boy. Finally he reaches Sherlock. “Hey.”  
“Been about two months since you last played football.”  
“What? Actually never mind. What’s in the bag, a body?”  
“A perfectly logical assumption.”  
“Wait are you serious?”  
“No.”  
“Well, where are you going?”  
“That isn’t really any of your business is it?”  
“Okay no harm in asking.” Sherlock scoffs. “Oh hey,” John pulls out an old receipt from his front pocket and finds a bitten-top pen in his back pocket. He scribbled down something and passes it to Sherlock. “There’s my cell number.”  
“Okay. Now if you don’t mind I’m going to be late.”  
“To where?” Sherlock turns and glares. “Okay, okay. Go run off to wherever you have to go. My street is the next one anyway.”

Sherlock pounded through the door of Elizabeth’s School of Dance.  
“Sherlock! You’re late!” cries a voice from one of the studios.  
“Yes. I know.” Sherlock slips out of the pants he is wearing to reveal tight black pants almost like leggings. Under his jacket he is wearing a white shirt. Sherlock hastily slips on his well-worn pair of black ballet slippers and grabs his water bottle before jaunting into the studio. He slips in between two girls at the barre and mimics them in extending his foot to tondue.  
“Now that everyone is here, I do have the cast list for this years Nutcracker.” Sherlock never liked doing the Nutcracker. It was the same thing every year. But still he couldn’t help but getting caught up in the hype of figuring out who you will be cast as. “Now we have just under 3 months to prepare this, so everyone need to be fully committed. Right after this competition season starts, but you all know that so I’ll just read the list.” Sherlock zones out only listening for his name. It is said followed by the words “Nutcracker Prince.” That is a lead role. Sherlock smiles lightly. As much as he dislikes the Nutcracker, leading in it is wonderful news. There isn’t that many guys at the studio, rationalizes Sherlock. He is right. But Sherlock refuses to believe that he was any good. “So rehearsal schedule will be posted after class and will start next week. But now to the center.”

After 3 hours of ballet and one of modern (a style Sherlock didn’t particularly enjoy, but liked just enough to continue taking the class) the young man walks home. As he enters the 4 four bedroom house, his mother stops him. “Where do you go all the time? You’re never home.”  
“Out.” Responds Sherlock making a break for the stairs.  
“You always say that.”  
“Then stop asking.” He walks down the upstairs hallway and goes into his room. He strips from his sweaty dance clothes and stuffs they way down in this bedroom hamper. The thoughts of John haunt him. Why did that boy take a liking to him? No one ever took a liking to him, but this boy seemed persistent.  
After John’s mother persisted that he tells her every detail of his first day, John pounds up to his room and dumps his bag at the door to his messy room. There is something mysterious about the tall boy in a coat who reads long books about the British government. It is almost magnetic.  
After dinner John sits on hit bed playing a game on his phone when a text arrives.  
07649 892 4660: Hello? -SH  
John: Hey. How was you’re mysterious appointment and the mysterious location?  
John adds Sherlock to his contacts hastily.  
Sherlock: Mysterious  
John: Oh come on.  
Sherlock: Nope  
John: Are you a spy?  
Sherlock: No.  
John: Vandal?  
Sherlock: No.  
John: Is it something illegal?  
Sherlock: No.  
John: I will find out what this secret legal act is.  
Sherlock: No you won’t.  
John: Yes I will.  
John: So what’s the English homework  
Sherlock: Nothing. She never checks it.  
John: Or do you just not pay attention?  
Sherlock: Probably the latter.  
John: Thought so.


	2. November

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds out Sherlock's secret.

 

 **Chapter 2: November**  
Christmas was six weeks away and John still hasn’t figured out where Sherlock disappears to. But he is disappearing more often. On one particularly boring evening, John decided to call Sherlock. The deep voiced boy picks up immediately, “No Mycroft, I will not tell you-”  
“Sherlock?”  
“Oh, hello John.”  
“Whose Mycroft?”  
“My pesky older brother.”  
“The one who buys long books about the British Government?”  
“Yes him. You wouldn’t want to meet my brother, trust me.”  
“Why?”  
“So many reasons.”  
“Do you want to hang out?  
“I was just heading home.”  
“Well it’s a Friday night and if I spend one more home alone my mum will start to worry.”  
“I’m not really dressed for anything.”  
“No worry. We’ll find something to do. Let’s meet up.”  
“Oh alright. I’ll meet you we part after school.”  
“Be right there.”

Five minutes later John was running up the street to Sherlock. “Hey!”  
“What is the plan?”  
“What?”  
“You interrupt me on my way home and you don’t even have a plan on what we are going to do.”  
“How about rollerblading?”  
“I’ve never been.”  
“Really?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well then. We are going rollerblading.”

John helps Sherlock step on to the rink, but quickly learns that Sherlock doesn’t need help. “I thought you couldn’t skate!”  
“I said I haven’t skated before.”  
“Well now you’re prancing around like a bloody ballerina!” John speeds up to catch up with Sherlock who is moving much faster than him. John noticed Sherlock laughing. ‘What?”  
“Nothing.”  
“No way!” exclaims John.  
“What?” asks Sherlock slowing down so John can catch up to him.  
“You’re a dancer?” He asks not in an accusatory manner but out of curiosity.  
“No.” says Sherlock stoping.  
“You’re lying. Clearly lying. Anyway I saw tights under your pants when you were putting the skates on. It’s cool.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah. Is that where you disappear off to at every waking hour?”  
“Uh yes.”  
“I want to watch.”  
“What?”  
“I’m going to come watch.”  
“No you’re not.”  
“Why?”  
“Because.”  
“Because why? It took me over a month to figure out where you run off to all the time.” said John. “I am going to watch you.”  
“Oh alright, come by Monday at 8.”  
“I’ll be there Mr. Prima Ballerina.”  
“Please stop.”  
“I just hope your good.”

John bugs Sherlock in all the classes they shared. Sherlock is actually glad the two have separate lunches on every day but Friday. At six-thirty john leaves his house to start the ten minute walk to the address Sherlock texted. He enters the front door confused but follows the sound of voices. They lead him down a pink hallway lined with doors, windows, bags, benches and empty water bottles. Suddenly the path erupts into a large room filled with bags, benches, and empty water bottles. This room also has people, mostly girls, and they sit in a circle pouring over food. Their schools books are open and left aside as they were an afterthought. “You’re early.” says a familiar voice. Sherlock sits on a bench slipping on well-worn black slippers.  
“Uh -yeah.”  
“Sherlock?” says a female voice from the circle. “Whose this?” Her voice is not accusatory, but as if this was a chance to get a piece of gossip.  
“A friend,” says Sherlock, “who is early.”  
“My name is John.”  
“Well then John, you need to join us.” The girls scoot apart forming a spot for John.  
John glances to Sherlock who shrugs, “You better join them or else they’ll tackle you and they are strong.” John sits in the circle, jumping over textbooks and shoes to reach his spot. Sherlock has the right idea, thinks his friend, getting is hang out with beautiful girls all the time is a great idea.  
“You’re the first friend of Sherlock that we’ve met.” Speaks one girl excitedly.  
“Are you going to stay a watch us dance?” questions another girl.  
“I plan too.”  
“Well, we’re going to be in that studio.” a girl points to a door that opens and sends a bunch of little kids in tutus running out into the room. One of the little girls runs up and taps John on the shoulder.  
“Who are you?” She asks innocently.  
“John Watson. I’m a friend of Sherlock’s.”  
“Sherlock has a friend? Are you his boyfriend?” That takes John back and he glances around at the other girls, who are now grabing water bottles and getting ready to head to class.  
“Um no. We’re just friends.”  
“Just asking. I have to go now.”  
“Bye.” The younger kids are leaving and most of the older girls are already in the class room. Sherlock walks up to John.  
“You can peek through that window and don’t try to ruin anything.”  
“I don’t plan to. Now go impress me.” Sherlock enters the room and closes the door. John kneels on the bench in front of the window. Much of the window is covered by a white blind, but there is a vertical crack that if John moves close enough he can see most of the room. There are footsteps behind him and a female voice speaks, “Oh, I don’t think I’ve seen you before?”  
“I’m John Watson,” he turns to face the woman, who is a adult with her hair pulled into a high bun.  
“Are you dating one of the girls?” She asks.  
“Oh no. I’m a friend of Sherlock.”  
“Really? Well it’s nice to meet you. I’m Mrs. Elizabeth.”  
“Nice to meet you.”  
“Well I must get in. Feel free to watch. An audience might help them out.” Mrs. Elizabeth enters the studio and even pulls up the shade a little bit for John. He swears they he sees Sherlock run red. Mrs. Elizabeth says something John can’t quite make out, but she stars music and the class lines up. They start to dance. John watches Sherlock who is in the front right corner, expertly spinning a girl. He’s good. He’s really good. John is force to look away as a small group of boys dressed in black pants and white shirts enter the room and fill in the spots next to the girls. The group is now evened out between boys and girls. The boys do the same motions of Sherlock. This number looks so perfect, so well rehearsed. John sits there watching them dance. The large group does differant dances.To John every number looks flawless but Mrs. Elizabeth stops the dances quite often to fix some mistake. Sherlock notices the awe in John’s face. It baffles him. Dancing is nothing but moving the body but John is watching the group as if they were a painting Van Gogh. Even when they land a turn with their feet parallel, John is shocked. The hour goes by fast and soon the class pours out into the waiting room, but Sherlock and one of the girls stays behind. The rest of the class packs up. One of the girls looks in the window next to John before calling out, “Hey! They are just about to start it!”  
“Start what?” asks John.  
“Their duet. The Nutcracker and Clara. They are both so good it’s ridiculous.” Sherlock and the girl, Clara -apparently, stand on opposite sides of the room. Music starts up and the girls swarm around the window.  
“I love watching them.” Speaks one girl happily. John quickly realizes what the people are talking about. There is such symmetry between the two. They leap and turn together. Sherlock supports the girl. John is taken back when he lifts the girl above his head. His hands are on her hips and her body is shaped like a curve. They wobble slightly and Sherlock hastily puts the girl down. The people at the window start to disperse. John watches as his friend starts to get told his errors. Sherlock doesn’t even glance into the mirror at John once. They try the lift again and it goes the same as the first time. The third time, though, it works. Sherlock’s eyes land on John in the window. He puts the girl down gracefully.

Twenty minutes later Sherlock comes out of the room and starts to pack up and slip his regular clothes over his dance ones. “I suppose you have questions.” He says tying his shoes on.  
“No not really. Just wow.”  
“Really?” John and Sherlock head to the door.  
“Just how long have you been doing this?”  
“A few years.”  
“And no one knows? Do your family know?”  
“Nope. And don’t you go telling anyone.”  
“I promise. But you are wicked good. You should tell your family.”  
“They wouldn’t like it. This isn’t exactly what every parent dreams off for their boy. Oh and Mycroft would never let me hear the end of it.”  
“They might like it after they see you dance. When can I come again?”  
“Any day but Friday.”  
“Why not friday?”  
"Because.”  
“Fine.”

When does John Watson grace the halls of Mrs. Elizabeth’s School of Dance again? 4:30 on Friday. And he is glad that he does. The class was in a different studio. There is more people in the class then John saw earlier in the week. John peeks through the crack in the blinds. People in the class are sprawled out on the floor with their legs spread out to the side and their stomachs pressed firmly against the ground. John hears someone sigh from the musicless room. He meets Sherlock’s glaring eyes in the mirror. Maybe this isn’t John Watson’s finest hour. The stretch class finishes. Sherlock is still glaring at John as he walks to a corner of the room that is filled with water bottles and black shoes. The girls, same ones from earlier in the week exit the room. Many of them greet John, warmly as the file into another room. The studio room fills with footsteps. All the dancers are guys. Only a couple look as old as Sherlock. They are all wearing tap shoes. This really shocks John. Sherlock is built like a ballet dancer, he does not look like a tap dancer. Sherlock isn’t as good with this as he is at ballet. Maybe this is why Sherlock didn’t want him to come thinks John. Tap is actually kind of cool, though. It’s different and exciting. So he actually enjoys himself as he watchs the class. The faces of the dancers slowly grow redder and when the teacher, a woman in her late twenties, lets the class free, they all sip down water and talk as they leave the room. Sherlock comes out the room last. He immediately turns to John, “Someone doesn’t know the meaning of ‘any day but.’”  
“I’m curious.”  
“Uh-huh. I now have an hour off, so I was just going to sit here and practice.”  
“Is that what you do in your free time?”  
“Yep.” Sherlock sits on the floor in front of a bench in the waiting room. He pulls out a long wooden thing from his bag.  
“What’s that?”  
“A foot stretcher.” Sherlock takes his tap shoe off and slips his bare foot on top of the wooden plank and under an elastic band. His foot forms a large arch.  
“That is weird. How does your foot even bend like that?”  
“The tendons get stretched out and then this happens.”  
“Okay. Like how flexible are you?”  
“Very. Any other questions?”  
“Yeah what class do you have next?”  
“Jazz.”  
“Are you going to let me see your jazz hands?”  
“No. No one actually uses jazz hands.” John chuckled and started to spend much of his free time watching Sherlock dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am still new to A03 and publishing on it. I thought this chapter went up on Saturday, but apparently I published it on a new story. This chapter has been up on ff.net for a while, so sorry. I'm an ff.net baby. Anyway its up! Enjoy!


	3. December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 minutes to curtain! John watches the Nutcracker.

**Chapter 3: December**  
It started to grow cold and colder it got the busier Sherlock seemed to be. John could hardly find to be with his friend. John still showed up every Monday at 6:30 without fail. On Monday December 2ed at 7:45 John receives an ominous text. An unknown number merely texts him that him: Hello, John Hamish Watson. John responds immediately, knowing that he tells no one his middle name.  
John: Who is this?  
07745352515: Mycroft Holmes.  
John: Sherlock’s brother right?  
Mycroft: Yes that would be me. I was simply wondering how my brother is doing?  
John looks through the window at Sherlock who is standing in the center doing something he vaguely remembers being called a tour-de-something.  
John: How’d you get my number?  
Mycroft: It was quite simple.  
John: So you text me to see if I will tell you how your brother is?  
Mycroft: I worry about him, constantly.  
John: He’s well.  
Mycroft: Are you with him now?  
John: Kinda.  
Mycroft: He’s at dance class right now, isn’t he?  
John: You know about that? He said no one else knew.  
Mycroft: He spends too much time there for me not to know.  
John: Okay. I’m going to go now.  
Sherlock comes out of class 15 minutes after Mycroft messages John. “Your brother texted me.” He says as he sits down next to Sherlock on a bench as Sherlock takes his shoes off.  
“Took him long enough.”  
“What?”  
“Oh nothing. What’d he want to know?”  
“He asked me how you were?” Sherlock scoffs. “Why doesn’t he ask you?”  
“Because... what’d you say?”  
“Oh nothing really. How did he even get my number?”  
“Nothing is really secret.”  
“About secrets. He knows about the dancing thing.” This takes Sherlock back.  
“University must be boring him.” John is confused at this response so Sherlock elaborates while slipping a proper shirt on. “He clearly doesn’t have to divert much energy to studying if he has time to meddle in my life.”  
“This is a sibling thing!” Exclaims John. “It’s a sibling thing and I am going to become the middle man... oh great.”  
One of the girls from Sherlock’s earlier class come up to him, “Are your parents coming to any of the shows this year?”  
“No.” Speaks Sherlock sharply.  
“Oh come on! You’re the lead they have to come!”  
“Well, they’re not.”  
“Well, John you’re at least going to be there, right?”  
John glances to Sherlock before saying, “I don’t see why not.”  
“That’s good. I have to go buy tickets now, so bye!” The girl bounces off.  
“How many shows are there?” asks John to Sherlock.  
“Four.”  
“I am going to see the same show four times.” Thinks John outloud.  
“You don’t have to come to all of the performances.”  
“Nope. There is going to be a person there for you at each of those shows. If it is only going to be me, then bring on the dun-dun-dunnun-dun-dun-duuun...” Ends John with singing the Party Scene music.  
“Shut up.” Sherlock would never tell John this but he was grateful for what he was going. He also would never admit to John how much he truly likes him.

John had the unique pleasure of listening to Sherlock complain all day Tuesday about about how his brother would be returning home for Christmas today and how in Sherlock’s eyes it was the end of the world. “Sherlock,” tries John in an attempt to calm him down, “It can’t be that bad. Hell, you can hang at my house if you want.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, but won't you be busy with dress rehearsals all this weekend?”  
“Lighting on Friday, dress on Saturday.”  
“Exactly what I said.”  
“Not really.”  
“Sherlock, I just offered to let you hang at my place for the rest of the month, don’t correct me.” Sherlock nods before reaching into his bag a pulling out The Origins of Parliament, the book for the first day John met Sherlock. “You’re still reading that?”  
“I'm rereading it.”  
“It must be quite fascinating.”  
“It is.”  
“I bet it’s secretly porn or something.” Says John trying to spite Sherlock.  
“Nope.” Sherlock setting the book down. John often marveled at Sherlock’s body but he noticed something different when Sherlock turns away to but his book back in his bag. He finds himself staring at Sherlock. John quickly pulls his eyes away.  
"What?" Inquires Sherlock sitting back up.  
"Nothing.”

John was leaving his house Tuesday night to go meet Sherlock when a well-dressed man was sitting on the front steps to his house.  
“Off to see Sherlock, I suppose.” Speaks the man startling John.  
“Excuse me, who are you?”  
“I am Mycroft Holmes-”  
“Sherlock’s brother. So you have my address now too?”  
“Nothing is to hard to find out.”  
“Sherlock said something like that?”  
“He is at class right now isn’t he?”  
“Like he is every night. Tell me you are going to the Nutcracker.”  
“The what?” inquires Mycroft confused.  
“The Nutcracker. They’re performing it in a week. Four shows. His family should come to at least one of them.”  
“I really don’t think that is necessary. Sherlock wouldn’t want me to.”  
“He would. Trust me.”  
“I’ll think about it.” John then ran off to meet Sherlock.  
John was able to get himself into many things closed to parents but dress rehearsal was not one. Starting Friday afternoon and lasting until Saturday evening John found himself without Sherlock and perpetually bored. Sherlock is more than just a friend he is someone who, as John quickly learned, he needed to function. Sherlock is his other half. John spent this Friday night not making funny faces at Sherlock through the mirror in tap class trying and failing at making him mess up, but laying on his back in bed looking up at the ceiling thinking about the boy with dark curls.  
Dress rehearsal seems endless without John. Sherlock wonders how he survived these in the past. Despite, having some part in almost every scene, Sherlock finds himself missing John. Thinking about him when he sits on a bench while the sweets dance. Sherlock walks home from rehearsal alone, preparing himself to avoid Mycroft and text John.  
Sherlock: I have finished for tonight.  
John: about time  
Sherlock: I wasn’t that long.  
John: How horrible was it without me?  
Sherlock: It was torturous.  
John: Good. I want you to be as miserable as I am bored.  
Sherlock: Such a nice friend.  
John: I am.  
The first performance is on Friday at 7:00. Sherlock spends the time before the show at John’s house where John helps him stretch in his living room. John sits on the couch and clicks the TV on. Sherlock sits with his legs spread apart on the floor. He pushes his legs back farther,so they make a straight line. “Now your just showing off!” exclaims John looking at how flexible Sherlock is.  
“No. I’m not.”  
“Yes you are. What’s next putting your leg behind your head?” Sherlock pulls his legs in before taking his left one and using both hands to put it up behind his head. “We are going to have to work on this showing off thing.”  
“Fine I’ll just sit here.”  
“No more contortion tricks?”  
“It’s not contortion.”  
“Really because I’ve seen people do the same things you are doing on Britain's Got Talent.”  
“Is that what you do when your not with me? Watch tv?”  
“Yep.”  
“That’s boring.”  
“Don't you have maker up to do or something?” Teases John.  
“Yes, but-”  
“You should do it.”  
“Fine.” Sherlock stands up grabs his bag and walks towards John’s bathroom.  
A few minutes later Sherlock emerges. “Ready?” asks John noticing the unitard straps peaking out from under Sherlock’s collar.  
“Yes. There is still an hour until doors open you don’t have to come now.”  
“I’ll wait outside.”

John does wait outside and is one of the first inside. He sits in a seat in the sixth row on the right-hand side. He plays on his phone until curtain. Each app is more boring than the last, grateful when the lights finally dim.  
Sherlock straightens his jacket before heading onto stage for the party scene. The whole company is in this scene so the wings are quite packed. Dancers begin to enter the stage in small groups and the cluster thins out. The Christmas tree is set up on stage. It is quite large and made out of sturdy wood. Presents wrap around the base of the tree. The children enter the stage. John instantly recognizes the girl playing Clara from rehearsal. He was shocked to learn that the girl playing Clara is much older than the character. She just looks young. Entering from the back wing of stage right is Sherlock’s lanky figure. John’s eyes latch onto him immediately. He also notices that Sherlock is wearing a black jacket in this number in place of his red Nutcracker one. He dances with a girl in a number they rehearse on Monday and Tuesday nights. There is such beauty in Sherlock’s moves. It draws John in like magic. He finds himself missing Sherlock when he leaves the stage.  
Sherlock runs off stage and makes a beeline for the dressing room. he quickly changes, slipping on white tights over his tan ones and a red military jacket. He finishes with a red and gold cap. There is a quick look in the mirror before heading for the left wing. Several girls wish him luck while he dashes for the stage.  
Sherlock hangs behind the sight lines while he waits for his cue. The battle scene is just starting. Sherlock remembers all the steps from last year and runs them through his head. A brute guy named Charlie is the Mouse King this year. The music crashes and Sherlock runs on to rescue Clara. John’s eyes never leave Sherlock until intermission.  
When the overhead announcer says that there will now be a 10 minute break John gets up from this seat and heads to grab a soda. He is waiting patiently in line when a voice behind him speaks. “I cannot believe this is what Sherlock has been doing all this time. We were starting to worry about where he ran off to weren’t we dear?” John whips his head around so fast that he is surprised not to of given himself whiplash. Standing behind him is Mycroft Holmes and two people who John assumes is Sherlock’s parents.  
“Hello John.” says the familiar Mycroft kindly.  
“You came.”  
“Excuse me,” introjects an older woman with dark hair. She was the voice that was speaking earlier. “ Who are you?”  
“John Watson. I’m a friend of Sherlock’s.”  
“We’ve never actually meet a friend of Sherlock’s. I assume you knew about this whole dancing thing.”  
“Yeah. I did.”  
“I think it is wonderful! I wish he didn’t hide it from us. He is fantastic.”  
“He is.” The line moves and John buys his soda before saying goodbye and returning to his seat. As the second act beings John finds himself admiring the way the costume sits on Sherlock’s shoulders. Then he realizes that he is in love with Sherlock Holmes.

 

The show ends successfully. John’s head still reeling from his revelation. Part of him is surprised it took him this long to realize it. Another part wonders if Sherlock feels the same way. John leaves the seat as soon as the finale finishes and he hurries to the backstage door. A few girls with hair in high buns are already trickling out . John leans against the wall next to the door. Eventually the dark curls, now combed back and hardened by hairspray walk out the door. Acting on pure impulse and new ideas John surprises Sherlock by twisting him around and pushing him up against the wall. John then presses his lips onto Sherlock’s. Sherlock’s eyes widen with surprise and then his body melts into John. The world around them is gone and it is only those two. They kiss until air becomes unattainable. When the world returns, they notice a small crowd around them. They are all the girls from Sherlock’s class. They are all grinning. Someone one from the back of the crowd cries out, “Kaylee won the bet!” There are grunts of disappointment. John turns and asks “What bet?” to the closest girl, whose name he remembered was Ruby.  
“On when you two will get together.” She says matter-a-factly.  
“Oh right. We should go though.” states John, before speaking only to Sherlock, “Mycroft brought your parents.”  
“I’m going to kill him.” whispers Sherlock as the couple walks away from the door.  
The thing with Sherlock’s parents went over quite well and Sherlock talked them out of going to all his next performances, and only the show on Saturday night. John was still going to every one, and didn’t mind at all. After the last show on Sunday night Sherlock and John take a walk through a local park and find themselves holding hands on a bench together. “John,” asks Sherlock quietly, “That book I was reading about Parliament It was about ballet. I switched the book jacket.”  
“I knew it!” Answers John before continuing quietly, “has everything worked out, Sherlock?”  
“Everything is perfect,” answers Sherlock kissing John lightly on the cheek.

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end. Let me know if you liked it, but most importantly thanks for reading!


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